


All Aboard

by Coraleeveritas



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-12
Updated: 2016-05-12
Packaged: 2018-06-08 00:38:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6831826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Coraleeveritas/pseuds/Coraleeveritas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brienne shifted carefully in her uncomfortably standard sized seat, doing what she could to stretch out each of her long, cramped, limbs in turn while desperately trying not to disturb the sleeping man to her left. How he could sleep as the train climbed higher and higher, rocked and battered by the winter winds that had only seemed to grow since they had left the North, was beyond her. The howling alone was enough to wake the dead and still he'd slept on like he had lost all sense of time and place.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All Aboard

**Author's Note:**

  * For [RoseHeart](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoseHeart/gifts).



> This was written as a gift to my dear friend and beta, RoseHeart, after I had a half idea of Jaime and Brienne stuck on a train since my own had broken down that day. Huge thank yous go to Sandwiches for the beta read and many fabulous comments throughout the writing process! 
> 
> Anything you recognise doesn't belong to me, I'm just borrowing things so these two finally get to admit their feelings!
> 
> I hope you enjoy! :)

Brienne shifted carefully in her uncomfortably standard sized seat, doing what she could to stretch out each of her long, cramped, limbs in turn while desperately trying not to disturb the sleeping man to her left. How he could sleep as the train climbed higher and higher, rocked and battered by the winter winds that had only seemed to grow since they had left the North, was beyond her. The howling alone was enough to wake the dead and still he'd slept on like he had lost all sense of time and place.

Realising that she was now reading the same paragraph in her book, a throwaway romance she'd picked up at the station in anticipation of the extended journey, for a third time as she kept one eye on the golden god who had become her unexpected travelling companion, Brienne felt the familiar flickers of unexpected heat lick at her cheeks. She attempted to blink away the sensation, watching his lips stretch into an unmistakable smirk even as the sound of contented snoring reached her ears. He couldn't be studying her from behind his eyelids, especially not when he pushed his cheek deeper into the rough wool seat covering and turned to find a more comfortable position, but she prickled in those moments of uncertain consideration nevertheless.

Glancing out of the condensation laden window to take her mind off things she had no right to even look at, Brienne immediately wished she had stared a little longer. The cross country train had reached the trickiest part of its journey just as her gaze had moved from man to mountain, travelling over a centuries old bridge that barely looked strong enough to hold its own weight never mind the added pressure of carriages and passengers. During the summer months it was the domain of extreme sports enthusiasts, and Brienne herself had even bungee jumped off it for charity a few years back, but now that winter had come, the sheer drop on both sides was enough to tip over the edge of terrifying, snow and ice filling the horizon. Again she cursed the timing of her third trip to The Vale in as many months, the visits usually made over the space of a year. This was the first time she'd been sent in true winter, the first time the runway at Winterfell had been frozen solid, the first time she'd had to bundle her modest luggage past a wide eyed train guard and let her journey stretch into the four hour mark and beyond.

_If only Catelyn wasn't relying on me to help hand deliver this manuscript._

Making a futile attempt to absorb her nervously racing mind in simpler scenarios, Brienne skimmed the next few pages of the paperback, the love lives of prettier people than she trusted far less interesting now she'd left the relative shelter of Storms End's best community college behind. Catelyn had been the only one to see her potential in that messy crowd of dreamers, her innocence and strength of character coming across as refreshing to a woman who had spent the last few years surrounded by demanding publishers and thirsty academics alike. Apart from the few bright spots granted by Catelyn's semester in residence, though, college hadn't been at all kind to Brienne and she rarely thought about it now unless she had to. She'd been too tall, too strong, too unusual, and after a few run ins with a certain group of frat boys, she had been left with no illusions to how ugly and unwanted she really was to the rest of the world. And when her father died, shortly before graduation, there really was nothing for her to leave behind when the job opportunity came up in Winterfell.

Somewhere between a personal assistant and a research associate, it had taken Brienne a long while to feel properly settled hundreds of miles from what had been home, burying herself in the day to day interest of working for a world renowned historian and author, though the Stark family had done their best to show her acceptance. Despite losing their father, Catelyn's husband, not so long ago, the tragedy playing out for Brienne in snippets of sorrowful slow motion from behind her desk, she was, gradually, beginning to think of a couple of her boss' children as more than passing acquaintances.

The man beside her chose that second to snuffle into silence, knocking his knee against hers as he moved almost just to give her a better look at his perfectly angled jaw. The clear, cold light streaming in from the windows emphasised the touches of silver decorating an otherwise golden beard, granting him a touch of softness as he slept. He really was beautiful like this and, be it cruel curiosity or human nature or otherwise, the contradiction in their relative appearances kept drawing more and more unwanted attention.

Unattractive and broad and freckled but otherwise well put together, Brienne had specifically picked out her tailored black slacks and dark blue pinstriped shirt for a flight in business class rather than a trip on a decidedly chilly train. She had more comfortable clothes in her suitcase, sweaters that were at least half her age but were lovingly worn in all the right places, though hadn't had the foresight to change before swapping sky for tracks. On the other hand, he clearly hadn't shaved for at least a week, preferring a more casual approach to travel in a dove grey sweater and well fitting jeans, cuddling into his oversized sheepskin coat while still looking like something out of a magazine proclaiming the rise of hobo chic. The pair of older women sitting opposite them hadn't stopped gossiping since they had boarded the train in White Harbor, though, so far, had held on to just enough of their manners to keep their whispering so that Brienne was only able to catch the occasional word of their conversation. But, as the train took the next bend rather more erratically than anticipated and, in the resulting jolt and scramble, his head landed firmly against the muscle of her shoulder. Brienne instinctively reached out to stop him from falling, listening to their chattering grow loud enough for half the carriage to hear.

"They're not _together_ , surely."

"No," the other woman replied empathically, Brienne doing her best to retrieve her arm from where it had been trapped behind his back. "You don't think he'd be interested in someone who looks like her. That's not how the world works, Jeyne."

Fighting the urge to remind them that she was right there, but figuring that they would reach their destination at some point in the next hour, leaving alone again, Brienne turned her attentions back to her book but found herself unable to concentrate, her mind darting from her empty office in Winterfell to Catelyn and the children. It was Thursday so Rickon and Arya would need picking up from rugby practice while Bran was at hydrotherapy and, since there were always three or four cousins or friends joining them, Brienne would be persuaded to stay for dinner. She'd insist on running the dogs after, as much a wind down for herself as a thank you, and head home to ignore the requests of all but the most demanding of EagleWolf Press' literary clients.

The first woman nodded or shrugged, Brienne could hear winter clothes rustling, heavy jewellery rattling like shackles, pulling her away from her thoughts to wanting nothing more than the ground to swallow her while as it became more and more clear she was no longer able to move now that she'd become a reluctant pillow.

"You know, in this light, he rather looks like that author. You know, the one who writes those bloody historical fiction books my grandson likes. Jaime something."

_Lannister. Jaime Lannister._

This trip was all his fault, she thought as the women worked through half a dozen names before falling onto the right one. If he had kept to the, more than generous, schedule Catelyn had provided for fact checking and proof reading, then they wouldn't have been thrust together on an impromptu visit to The Vale to hand over the almost finished book. It wasn't that Jaime was a bad author. On the contrary, once he got off his amazing arse and gave it his full attention, he could be amongst the best in the genre. But he was also entitled, fickle and bordering on lazy, made infamous for his apparent involvement in his former publisher's downfall. Even so, his signing a deal with EagleWolf had been seen as a coup at the time, though that was before they'd all learned he was likely more trouble than he was worth.

While Catelyn locked herself away to work on her next best seller, it had fallen on Brienne to field his calls, remind him of deadlines, keep his intermittent writer's block contained between sharp words and inflammatory arguments that left her feeling like she was dealing with the devil himself at times. Jaime had a way of goading her into speaking her mind, gnawing on her nerves as they descended into unwelcome nicknames and derogatory personal remarks, all before she had even met the man in person. After weeks of being his main contact at the publishers, Brienne had started to wonder if he was simply some kind of test or if her role had been changed without her knowledge to one that focused on keeping him, their golden goose, entertained. She was forced to work later and later as the seasons changed, his calls always seeming to come just as she was due to leave for the day.

The idea that he could have been lonely, or maybe just isolated with his only close family member now working overseas, had never crossed her mind until fairly recently. And even then, the good will that could have granted him was lost when Jaime strode into her office like he owned the place, introducing his presence with the slam of a near bursting briefcase on her desk. Reminding himself of the flaws he had paid so much attention to at each of their numerous monthly meetings, Jaime gave her the once over while he informed her that he apparently now needed a chaperone to meet the investors because 'Lady Stone Heart' no longer trusted his word.

That was three days ago and here they were, travelling through a blizzard to meet the heads of EagleWolf Press because Jaime fucking Lannister couldn't meet a deadline without needing to pull her away from work, either on the phone or in person.

Brienne gritted her teeth as the train lurched forward again, reaching around him to turn the next page. She was merely keeping up the facade of reading by that point, filtering out voices through the breezy text, though that slight action was filled with regret as soon as she realised it had encouraged him closer. Mussed hair tickled along her collar bone and as she held herself perfectly still to allow the not unpleasant sensation to pass, Jaime let out a groan that was downright _filthy_. It seemed to quieten the watching women, though, who promptly decided that it was time for lunch, not even trying to hide their stares that time.

"Hey," he breathed when their fellow passengers slipped out of earshot. As his eyes opened, Brienne knew he was too close and she pressed herself against the icy glass in order to maintain a more professional distance. "Are we there yet?"

"Almost," she sighed, feeling like she was pacifying a cranky toddler. "Now get off me."

Jaime checked his watch as she glared down at him, raising a single eyebrow instead of lifting his weight from her shoulder. "Did I sleep the whole way?"

"You must have been," _hungover_ , she thought, biting her tongue to give her a second to come up with a correction, "tired."

He yawned, running a hand across his face and through his hair. "I wouldn't have been if you hadn't kept me talking all night. You could have at least come for a drink if you had things you wanted to discuss."

"I kept _you_ talking?!" She pushed him away, hard, and Jaime laughed, feigning injury as he rubbed over the tensed bicep she'd slammed her palms against. "It was midnight and you wouldn't stop texting me with questions."

He shrugged. "You wouldn't answer any of my calls. What was I supposed to do?"

"It was late. I was in bed. You could have waited." Brienne realised her slip up a second too late, seeing fascination flash in his eyes.

"Really? So was I." His smile reminded her of treacle of all things, the promise of sin slowly dripping off him. "Naked?"

"Of course not!"

"The hotel bar stays open until two."

"And what would that have looked like?" Brienne was aware that she was now squeaking, but could do little to stop her voice dancing through several octaves. 

"That you're starting to like me. Which you do or you wouldn't have agreed to come away with me."

"It's not like I had a choice," she spat back. "Catelyn asked me, she trusted me to get you and your criminally late book there in one piece. I don't have to have any feelings at all to do that."

"But you do."

"Like hell I do."

"Have you already forgotten that I had my head on your chest? I _heard_ your heart flutter, sweetling."

"You were asleep," she rushed to justify, cutting off further attempts to mess with her firmly set mind."It was probably just your imagination." In the two and a half years that had passed since first meeting Jaime their conversations had only just started deviating beyond civil, friendly still some ways off, even if he had developed a bad habit of winding her up further by asking questions about her lack of a personal life. Catelyn hadn't, in so many words, warned her about getting too close, but the implication was implicit. And it was one she was trying to hold onto in spite of finding that trouble came with one of the prettiest faces she'd ever seen.

"True. I dream about you all the time."

She narrowed her eyes, trying to detect any hint of sarcasm in his comeback, what he was doing dreaming about 'someone who looked like her' was beyond Brienne. But when she didn't find exactly what she was expecting, she reached for the cup of icy coffee in front of her, abandoned some hours ago, to help split her focus. Jaime had no such need, appearing to be too interested in seeing what colour he could turn her skin with just a few, honestly spoken, words.

"I'm sure that sounded funnier in your head," she mumbled into the waxed cardboard, watching him watch her blush. "Especially as you definitely made the most of where you were resting it earlier."

Jaime's grin lasted no longer than a moment, flashing before her eyes like an acknowledgment for both her innately good nature and his earlier, deliberate, enjoyment, before it fell from his face. "Those women were being rude. If only they knew what was going on beneath this sullen Mary Poppins thing you've adopted, maybe they wouldn't have been so quick to judge what I may or may not be into."

_Mary Poppins?_ "I'm not your nanny, Jaime, I'm your-"

"No? I was starting to think it might be nice to have you read me a story before bed tonight."

Brienne rolled her eyes, dealing with the immediate irritation before backtracking a little. "Wait, what do you think you know about me now?"

"I think I can make a couple of educated guesses," he replied, shrugging out of his coat as she studied him from the corner of her eye, the movement rotating his shoulders and pulling cashmere taut across covered muscles. "I seem to remember a _very_ interesting dress that barely covered your thighs at the publisher's last Winterfest party."

"I don't get invited to a lot of parties, I had to borrow that dress from a friend."

"So it's not in your bag?" he laughed, blocking the sharp jab of her elbow with a makeshift barrier of suede and sheepskin. "If I'm remembering correctly, and I did have a lot to drink that night so Gods know what actually happened, you and those legs kept me away from that awful woman."

"You mean Catelyn's sister?"

"Seven hells," he pushed his fingers through his hair again, letting go of a deep breath. "It _was_ Lysa. How did I forget that and not you?"

Brienne chose not to answer. "It wasn't as if it was the first time I'd heard that, what those women were saying," she informed him evenly, taking another sip of coffee and trying not to pull a face at the taste. "They just announced that lunch was being served, if you want-"

"Is that your less than subtle way of saying you're hungry?"

"Of course not." Subtlety had never been a part of their conversations in the past and Brienne had no desire to start adding it in now. If Jaime didn't seem to understand, or chose to blatantly ignore, some of their proof reader's finer notes on spelling and run on sentences, then she doubted tiptoeing around him would get her anywhere but in need of a migraine pill. "While I don't care that your taste buds haven't evolved much past middle school and you still manage to look like _that_ , I do care that you're not about to go into this meeting starving and unfocused."

"Like what?"

"Like..." she could feel herself blushing all over again, happily pressing one cheek against the window as she leaned away from him. He smelt spicy and woodsy and too good to ignore for long. "You know."

"I really don't. You should tell me," Jaime grinned, lying through his perfect teeth. "But if you wanted to have dinner with me you just have to ask. I'm sure the hotel won't mind an amendment to the reservation."

"If I was hungry I would have gotten one of the power bars from my bag."

"Ever the Girl Scout," he remarked, retrieving his phone from a pocket in his jeans and frowning down at whatever message had been left. Brienne wondered how long it would be before he was trying to persuade her that calls from his estranged father were a business rather than personal problem. Though at least between Catelyn and Jaime she'd never been asked to deal with even a single one night stand, unlike both of her college housemates who were working as assistants in the fashion industry. Despite all the things he was, and all the misconceptions she'd learned he wasn't, Jaime Lannister didn't associate with many women. The idea that she was the only woman he spoke to on a regular basis, monthly contact becoming weekly and then, more surprisingly, daily, made Brienne stop thinking mid sentence.

"I'm surprised you didn't," he added when she paused for a moment too long, seemingly eager to keep the back and forth going.

"You were asleep on me. All that ego and attitude has made your head heavy."

"Not to mention all the time I've been spending at the gym."

She frowned. "I don't follow."

"Weren't you just noticing my shoulders?"

Brienne's frown deepened, hugging herself slightly as the sliding doors that separated their carriage from the rest of the train whooshed open, the returning travellers bringing with them a blast of cold air that emphasised just how thin her shirt was. She fought the shiver that prickled up her arms and down her back, tuning out everything but Jaime. "Don't you point out mine all the time?"

"Only the first...dozen or so times we met. They're kind of obvious."

Brienne sighed, unable to successfully outthink the second wave of cold air that had arrived along with their gossipy seat mates. "I think other people usually say 'hello' first."

"And where would be the fun in that, Freckles?"

"I thought we'd moved past _that_ months ago. What did I say about you calling me..." she hissed, trailing off as she felt two pairs of widening eyes flicker between her and Jaime. A second or two later, she thought she could _hear_ his easy going smile freeze in place, offering up only a hint of professionalism to the women who looked ready to fawn all over him. "My name is Brienne."

"But that's not what it says in my speed dial."

Torn between asking why he'd done that and under what ridiculous nickname she was down as on his phone, Brienne was too busy feeling more and more uncomfortable in front of their audience to dig much deeper. "I would have thought you'd known the office number off by heart by now."

"I'm not good with numbers."

"No," she muttered darkly, dropping her voice down lower. "Your talent lies in words."

He barked out a laugh, making the women opposite jump, her attempts not to be overheard being rendered futile by Jaime's continued amusement. "It's good I write for a living then, isn't it?"

"Nobody would mind if you wrote a little quicker. Since it's your job and all."

"Perfection takes time."

"Keep telling yourself that."

"Oh, I will. But I like hearing it better from you."

"When have I ever-?" Brienne spluttered, thinking about standing only to be jarred forward by the driver suddenly hitting the breaks, hard. Jaime caught her that time, before she could smack into the table separating them from their avidly watching seat mates, the unanticipated warmth and proximity of his body causing her to shiver all over again.

"Gods, you're like ice," he whispered, rubbing one hand over her back as the other yanked her out of harm's way and into his lap.

_This isn't how the trip was meant to go. Keep your distance, Brienne._

Wary and overwhelmed, Brienne tried to focus on what he'd told her about the motorcycle accident that had weakened his right hand, staying so late at the office that night it was almost pointless going home just to turn around and come back in, rather than the way his arms had enveloped her like it was a habit already formed. She couldn't truly believe that this was anything more than a show to fuel the chattering fires around them. She was too heavy, too ugly, too much of a joke, and if it was just kindness, he'd have deposited her into the aisle and told her to get a sweater before he had to call in a few favours and find an air ambulance for her oncoming hypothermia. But the pleasant pressure of his palms felt soothing through the cotton barrier keeping her skin from his, his murmuring growing distant as she unwittingly buried her head in his neck for no more than a couple of beats of her pounding heart before the rest of the world rushed back in.

"Did you not bring a jacket?" he asked over the crackling tannoy message apologising for the sudden stop and expected delay to service, the mocking lacing his words coming hand in hand with concern. "What happened to always 'be prepared'?"

"That's not what...we...they are supposed to help people at all times," she conceded with a world weary sigh, retreating to her seat now that she was beginning to warm through, if only by the ferocity of her flushing cheeks.

"Then let me help you help yourself."

"W-what are you doing?" she stammered, unable to tear her eyes away from the slivers of tanned, toned, flesh being unwrapped in front of her as Jaime unselfconsciously scrambled to his feet and began to pull off his sweater. "It's twenty below outside, Jaime, you can't go out there in just a t-shirt!"

He winked, shaking his head free of the soft material and she felt the heat rising from her skin carefully caress down her neck, spreading across her chest. "Neither can you."

"I'm f-fine, I have...my suitcase has...clothes. For winter."

"Stop trying so hard to be a martyr, Freckles. You're not impressing anyone," Jaime purred, his green gaze leaving her face only to check in with their speechless spectators and bouncing straight back, leaving no doubt in her mind to what he was doing. "We must about the same size."

"That's besides the point, Jaime, I'm not-"

Looking half a god as he hovered over her, his long sleeved white t-shirt clinging lovingly to muscles she pretended not to consider while steam just about rose off him in the cold air, Jaime held out the garment in question, mischief quirking his lips. "Think what _Catelyn_ would say if I didn't bring you back exactly as you are."

"You'd be doomed to never ending book tours from now until the end of time," Brienne agreed, begrudgingly taking the still warm sweater off him and slipping it on. It smelled like heaven itself and she couldn't help but inhale deeply as it slid over her head, seeming to fit perfectly everywhere except across the swell of her meagre breasts. "Thank you."

"Oddly enough, I think it suits you," he replied, sitting down to snuggle back into his coat but not before he'd lifted the arm rest separating their seats and tried to curl an arm around her middle. A moment later his breath was ghosting across her cheek, giving off the impression he was whispering sweet nothings in her ear, Brienne assumed for the benefit of those eavesdropping rather than herself, equally embarrassed and annoyed his words were having, if not the desired effect, then something similar.

"I hope you've also remembered to bring a bra for our meeting, Freckles. You said you cared about me being unfocused, and there's no way I'd be able to concentrate if your nipples were as hard then as they are now."

"What!?"

And then he kissed her.

It felt like nothing more than a curtain call to the floor show he'd been putting on since the train had stopped, his growing smile branding her cheek with promises she didn't think Jaime had the ability or inclination to follow up on later. But he lingered there too long for it to be funny, the second gentle touch of his lips shocking her back into opening her eyes and taking a single, shuddering breath, reaching up to run a trembling hand through his hair without thinking. As soon as the silken threads slipped through her fingers, though, Jaime purred happily, relaxing further while she whispered his name like a wanton warning, unable to pull away even though her mind was screaming to move.

_What in the name of the Seven is he playing at? And why don't I want him to stop?_

"Okay, okay," he murmured after what seemed an age, his final kiss landing where she could feel his beard rub against her neck, sending shivers down her spine that had nothing to do with the cold. "You're right. It _is_ time for lunch."

With her mind still racing to find reasons and rational explorations for Jaime's novel need to add unpredictable physical affection to their disputes, at least in public where she could be ridiculed and judged more than usual, Brienne almost had to be bodily dragged from her seat and out into the aisle. The initial shock abated nearly as quickly as it had arrived and she was left wondering who she hated more in that moment; herself for ignoring a slowly creeping crush, he was on her mind, in her dreams, under her skin every day, or Jaime for pulling those feelings to the surface. Pretty, smart and talented he may have been, those traits being balanced out by a sharp tongue and the demeanour of a contradictory asshole, but it was still pointless fantasising about something that could never be, so Brienne actively hadn't.

Remaining mortified by what had just happened, and being kept upright and steady only by the tight hold he'd maintained around her waist, she hung her head as Jaime nodded to the women who were now staring at the pair open mouthed. She closed her eyes again, feeling Jaime encourage her to take a step forward with the swing of his hips and there was suddenly no denying that she'd had some kind of effect on him, too.

"If you'll excuse us," he announced just as she started counting to ten, a technique she had used in the past no longer working with him breathing down her neck. "My lady hasn't had anything to eat since before sunrise and I'd hate for her to become even more cranky." And with that she was pushed out into the vestibule where a painful rush of emotion hit Brienne all at once.

Spinning around at the sound of closing doors, she found herself standing in the circle of his strong arms, and, for a heartbeat, it felt like he might close the distance between them again. But with no one except Jaime to hear her unavoidable outburst, she couldn't hold back the anger and fear and sheer _disappointment_ from bubbling over.

"No," she growled before he could speak, not wanting to be wrong footed for the thousandth time by whatever was about to come out of his mouth. "No," her voice was growing louder, his half step forward causing her to fold her arms across her chest. "You don't...what the fuck do you think you were doing?"

"Proving a point," he smoothly replied, his eyes hardening to glinting shards of emerald. "You don't have to sit there and take shit from anyone. So what if you look like you could rip a man limb from limb?"

"Shut up. I'm not here for you to play with or make fun of or...you can't do _that_ to me again."

"Do what? Kiss you?"

"Pretend," Brienne hissed in reply. "I don't know why I expected more from you, but I did so there needs to be a line drawn now."

"And what if I'm not 'pretending'?" Jaime threw the idea back at her quicker than she had time to guard against her response. "What if after talking to you every day got the last six months I finally realised that I was pleased it was you coming with me today and not Stoneheart Stark herself."

"Stop this, Jaime. I'm not going through this again. And definitely not with you."

"I'm only going to stop when you listen." He paused, watching her start to pace, his head cocked inquisitively. "Again?"

She nodded, her anger remaining red hot and raw. "There was a guy in college. We went out a couple of times. He told me he loved me but it was just a game he cooked up with his friends to get me, the freak, into bed. My virginity was apparently worth close to a thousand dragons when I broke it off."

Jaime whistled, though his jaw was firmly set and twitching when she glanced over to glare, his voice little more than a furiously protective rumble that reverberated in the confined space. "I hope you broke his nose."

"I did."

"That's the Brienne I know and..." he trailed off as the train started moving again, creeping forward at an agonisingly slow pace, though they still both reached out to stop from falling. "Forgive me? I didn't know how much flirt fighting I could take today. And those women pissed me off."

"We haven't been flirting."

He had the cheek to laugh and Brienne prepared to close herself off again to his coming attack. "I didn't think so either but according to my brother, that's exactly what's been going on. I had you on speaker the other day and he asked when I was going to propose."

Her only response was to blush and Jaime took that as express encouragement to continue. "I really do dream about you."

"You...you m-may have been in a few of mine, too, recently."

"Really?" His smile was like a sunrise, if a heavenly body could be excited by the prospect of a new day.

"Really."

"So can I buy you lunch now?"

She sighed, thinking back to the warnings she had been given, but maybe a little downtime was what they both needed. "I suppose so."

"Don't sound so enthusiastic, it's not like I'm offering to sacrifice a basket of puppies to you in worship," he snarked, reaching for her hand, just to lean in and kiss her on the cheek again when she took it with only the slightest hesitation. "How about dinner?"

"Don't push your luck, Jaime," Brienne growled, though an uncontrolled giggle broke through before she could successfully swallow it. "We've got a few days together to figure things out."

"And I don't plan on wasting a minute of it."

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! :)


End file.
